The Quiet Man
by Carol3059
Summary: You can't save everyone' Sam's heard Dean say it so many times he actually believes it now, but when a hunt goes sideways and Dean loses faith in himself and the hunt, Sam doesn't know what to do.
1. Chapter 1

Note: This story is set late first season because it was my favorite. The title is taken from a John Wayne movie that I love. 

_"Some things a man doesn't get over so easy." John Wayne, The Quiet Man_

Sam stood beside Dean, watching the fire burn. He watched the firefighters and police. He looked over at his brother, who seemed not to notice anything but the fire. His eyes were liquid.

"Dean." Sam said, touching Dean's arm. Dean turned to him, and Sam could see the dazed sorrow in his brothers eyes.

"Come on, lets go." Dean nodded, but turned his head back to the raging fire. Sam sighed and started pulling his brother towards the Impala.

Dean didn't say anything as they went. He didn't complain as Sam sat him down in the passenger seat and Sam got in the drivers side. He didn't say a thing on the way back to the motel, just stared out of the window.

It was unnatural, the silence. The radio wasn't even on, and Sam had gotten used to Dean's constant chatter, sometimes about absolutely nothing. Sam thought, sometimes, it was how he unwound after a hunt.

Dean followed him into the motel room, and sat down on his bed, still sort of staring into space. Sam watched him wordlessly as he sat down on his own bed across from him. He really didn't know what to say at the moment.

The phrase that Dean had said to him so many times when a hunt had gone wrong, the repeated words of 'you can't save everyone' seemed sort of hollow in the face of what had happened today.

The thing was that Sam had actually started to believe it himself, too. He had started to be glad that he had come back into this thing with Dean. He probably would have come apart at the seams without Dean there after Jess died. He had started to believe that, and truthfully he still did, but now he wasn't sure that Dean did.

After a few minutes, Dean got up, mumbled something about taking a shower and disappeared into the bathroom. Sam laid back on the bed wearily. He closed his eyes but immediately snapped them open when images from that night swam behind them. His stomach roiled a little and he had to take a few deep breaths to keep himself from being sick.

He glanced towards the bathroom door. Dean was taking it hard, of cource. How could he not? And Sam wasn't sure how he could convince his brother that this wasn't his fault.

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Dean rested his head on the back of the shower stall and stared straight ahead. He couldn't bring up the energy to do anything else. He knew Sam was worried, but he didn't have the energy to bring forth that smirking cocky persona he had perfected, not this time.

He gritted his teeth as images of what happened sprang forth. The kids screams echoed in his head. He turned abruptly and slammed his fist into the wall of the shower, breaking open the skin of his knuckles.

He stared at his hand for several minutes. Even the pain of that didn't drown it out. Guilt welled up in him so strong that he though he might drown in it.

He stood there like that until the water ran cold, but he still didn't get out. He knew what Sam would say, knew that his brother would want to talk about it, but he didn't think he could. It was simple really, he had made a mistake and someone had died for it.

It was stupid and something that he had been taught not to do when he was still a child. He had always been more careful, more vigilant after that whole Striga incident when he and Sam were still children.

It all came down to one simple conclusion. He didn't think he could trust himself anymore. And if he couldn't trust himself, his own instincts, then who could he trust?

His instincts had gotten him out of more tight spots than he could count. Not only him but Sammy too, but they had been wrong tonight and for that, someone was dead. Not just someone but a child, too.

After a few minutes, when he was sure that his lips might start turning blue if he stayed much longer, he got out. No need to give Sam more things to worry about. He dressed slowly.

Sam was still perched on the edge of his bed when he came out of the bathroom, still staring off. His eyes snapped up to Dean's when he started across the room.

"Dean-" he held up a hand, cutting Sam off.

"I don't want to talk about it, Sam." Dean said.

"It wasn't your fault." Sam pressed.

"Really?" Dean said, collapsing back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "Then who's fault was it? I'm pretty sure that I'm the one who made the mistake in there, Sam."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Dean." Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, they do. But not everyone's mistakes end with some one dying." Sam fell silent at that. Dean stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

"I don't think I can do this anymore." Dean whispered so quietly that he wasn't sure if Sam heard him. The room was silent for a minute, and then Sam spoke again.

"Yes, you can." Dean held back a bitter laugh at that. He had thought that the good that he and Sam did made up somewhat for the people that they couldn't save. He had repeated that phrase, told Sam that they couldn't save everyone, and he had believed.

In the end, though, nothing outweighed the screams of that boy, nothing outweighed the picture of his death that Dean was sure would haunt him until he died.

Note: I know, short. If you guys like it, I'll continue soon, and the next chapter will be longer.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Here you guys are. Sorry about this, but I've got John Wayne on the brain. I got this box set thing for someone for Christmas and actually rewatched a lot of his movies. I couldn't help but notice a lot of these quotes actually fit with the show and this story. Plus the basic premise of this story fits with The Quiet Man. Anyways I just decided to keep this quote thing going. 

_"A lot of guys make mistakes, I guess, but every one we make, a whole stack of chips goes with it. We make a mistake, and some guy don't walk away - forevermore, he don't walk away." John Wayne, Sands of Iwo Jima_

Dean sat in the Impala, looking out at the graveyard. It had been three days since it happened. Three days and if anything the guilt from what had happened had only grown.

They hadn't left town yet, despite Sam insisting that they should. Dean knew what Sam was doing. He knew that Sam was just trying to get him away from here, away from what had happened, but he couldn't leave, not yet. Besides, it didn't matter how far they went, he knew he would never really get away from it.

He looked out the window and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. He could see the site from here. He could see the procession. He could make out the two new gravesites.

Two new gravesites. One for an older lady in her sixties, and one for a child who was barely nine. He watched the procession. He couldn't see individual people, but he didn't have to. He remembered how the mother of that child had looked when she had gotten home to see her house ablaze.

You can't make amends for something like that. How could you? Someone had lost their child. He didn't miss the fact that someone else had lost their mother, too. It was just, a child had died. One that hadn't even gotten a chance to live. At least the older lady had a long life behind her. He still felt guilt for that one, but this was a child.

It was just supposed to be a simple hunt, and the house was supposed to be empty. Hell, he wasn't even sure how the fire had started.

He had felt guilt before. Actually it had become sort of a constant companion for him over the years, since he was a child. It mostly revolved around Sam, though. It was partly that that forced his first instinct to be to protect Sam.

He looked out at the graveyard. He didn't have kids, so he really couldn't identify with what this woman was feeling, but he thought that the closest he could have gotten would be to lose Sam.

It came down to the fact that if Sam died the way this boy had, he wasn't sure what he would have done. If someone made the same mistake that got Sam killed, he didn't know if he would have killed the person or not, but he might have.

And, really, he was supposed to be dead anyways. He was supposed to have died months ago when he had accidentally electrocuted himself. Maybe if he had of died, that kid would still be alive.

Sighing, Dean rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment before starting the car and heading back to the motel he and Sam were sharing.

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Sam tapped his finger idly on the desk. His laptop was open, but he wasn't really looking at what was on the screen. Dean had left a while ago, saying he needed some air, but Sam knew where he was, and he was worried.

They had been in this town an extra two days, and Dean had been beating himself up the whole time. He hadn't been sleeping at all, and didn't really talk that much anymore.

Dean had basically become a different person. Oh, he was still Dean, but he was depressed and Dean depressed was a far cry from what his brother was normally like. Sam had seen glimpses of Dean like this before now, but even if it did last, Dean usually turned back into his smartass self in no less than a day or so.

When they were kids, a couple years before he had went to college, Sam had seen Dean like this. Dean had gotten a little bit on the self destructive side, and nearly died because of it.

Their dad had been severely pissed off about it, of course. Sam had actually ended up pissed of at their dad, especially when the man had used Sam to get Dean's head back in the game saying things like if Dean didn't then Sam could get hurt because of it. He hated that.

That wasn't the tactic that John should have used, and it wasn't the tactic that Sam would. He didn't know how he was going to help his brother through this at the moment, but he would, he had to. He owed Dean that, if only for the fact that Dean had been the one to help him through Jess' death.

Sam looked up when the door opened and Dean walked in. He studied his brother as he took of his jacket. Dean did not look good. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was an utter mess, probably from running his hand through it.

Dean glanced over at Sam before collapsing back on his bed. Sam watched his brother as he stared up at the ceiling of the motel. No jokes about Sammy the geek boy. Nothing on the fact that Dean was sure that Sam was actually surfing the net for porn when he said he was researching.

Dean hadn't suggested that they head out, go look for another hunt. Sam chewed his lip a little. He had been at a loss for two days now.

"You went to the graveyard?" He asked bluntly after a few minutes of silence. Dean flinched. He propped himself up on his elbows, but didn't meet Sam's eyes.

"Yeah." Sam sighed, and rubbed a hand tiredly over his face.

"What do you want to do now?" He finally asked. "Did you want me to check for a hunt-"

"No." Dean whispered fiercely before laying back again. Sam sighed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in the past couple of days. Sure, he had met depressed Dean before, but this was something new.

He had gotten enough from the short conversations that Dean had allowed over the past few days to know that Dean did not want to go hunting at the moment for one simple reason. He had lost faith in himself, in his instincts.

Sam had been trying to think of ways to bring that faith back. He had told Dean on several occasions that he still had faith in Dean, but that hadn't really helped. In fact, if anything, it had made Dean worse. Sam thought that Dean might be afraid that the next mistake might leave him dead.

Sam did have faith in Dean, though. More, actually, than anyone else in the world. Dean had saved his ass so many times. Hell, Dean had practically raised him. His brothers instincts had saved them more times than Sam could count.

Sam had been thinking that maybe there was a way to help Dean, and that was it. To show Dean that his instincts had saved a lot of lives over the years. Just saying it hadn't worked, but maybe if Dean saw it...

It was cheesy, he knew it, but he would do anything to help his brother.

"Come on." Sam said, closing his laptop and getting up. Dean looked up at him.

"Sam, I told you. I can't go hunting right-"

"Not hunting." Sam said, cutting him off. "Something else." He grabbed his bag and the Impala keys off the nightstand.

"I'm driving."


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Okay, so this is my last chapter, and yes I know this story turned out to be a little on the cheesy side. Man, I probably should have posted this story before Christmas or something. Anyways, this chapter is short and like I said, kind of cheesy. 

_"This kind of war, you've gotta believe in what you're fighting for." John Wayne, Back to Bataan_

Dean hadn't really had the energy to fight Sam. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, because he found himself in the passenger seat of the Impala on his way to god knows where.

Even though he didn't know where Sam was heading, he was pretty sure he knew why Sam was driving.

He sighed and leaned his head on the window. He didn't know what Sam was planning but he knew he couldn't hunt. How could he hunt when he didn't trust himself. How could he protect Sam if he didn't trust himself?

He actually drifted off while Sam drove, but he jerked awake almost every time. The nightmares were driving him crazy.

It wasn't until Sam had parked the car outside of a house that Dean realized where they were and he rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples.

"Sam, what are we doing here?" He asked, already knowing the answer, but still not believing Sam had thought of this.

"Look, I know it's corny and something out of a Christmas movie." Sam rubbed a hand across his face and let out a little laugh. "But I couldn't think of any other way to get you to realize that you do good all the time. That you save lives all the time."

"Alright, Clarence." Dean said rolling his eyes. He looked out the window and watched the family in the front yard of the house. The happy family. He looked back at Sam, serous again.

"You think this, what? Cancels out the fact that another kid is dead?" Sam shook his head.

"What I think is that that kids death is for nothing if you stop believing in yourself because of it." Dean chewed his lip and looked out the window again.

"I can't just forget..." He trailed off, chewing his lip again.

"Don't expect you to. Just didn't want you to stop believing that you do good things here too. I mean, think of all the people, not just them," Sam gestured out the window, "that would be dead if you didn't do this. Hell, I'd be dead now, so would dad if it wasn't for you." Dean sighed and leaned his head back on the seat. After a minute, he turned to Sam and a ghost of his old smile came to his face.

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Run down the street with my hands in the air screaming 'I want to live again!'?" Sam snorted, and shook his head.

Dean's smile faded as he looked away again. He understood what Sam was doing, but he couldn't just forget that kid's screams in an instant. At the same time, he felt a little lighter.

It was actually more because Sam believed in him enough to bring him here than anything. Sam was and always had been the most important thing, and he was grateful that Sam believed in him that much. Even if it was cheesy as hell.

"You okay?" Sam asked. Dean looked over at him.

"I'll be okay, Sammy." He answered as honestly as he could for once. Sam nodded. It wasn't until Sam had started the car and they had been back on the road for a while that Dean spoke again.

"Thanks, Sam." He mumbled, already half asleep.

"For what?" A small smile crossed over Dean's face.

"For being the cheesy, girly bastard that I always knew you were."


End file.
